Xaxeni, nimewamixx xo xo xana, xuccexx ix not xex xxxxx xxxxixixx (bullshit),how about you get on board and I take you back to when S was S and X was X when Christmas was something worth the wait, when we had no FM, Just some AM (Broadcasted even at PM hrs) and SW,Okay am confusing you, I mean lets go back to her majesty, the chief’s daughter.
With Mary back, school was cool, especially after she explained about her and Ben. After her periods going to exile she knew her dad would skin me alive,so she set up Ben to eat the sweet without the wrapping paper. That’s how much I’m loved. Every school day was great, if it wasn’t mandazi from her, it would be Bread, maize , potatoes, mangoes or ground nuts. There’s this day she told my how she fried Chicken for supper,“nimekubebea imondo” Oh God this must be one of your missing Angels. I was salivating just imagining kuku na si Christmas, time was moving like a zombie,so I set my time 5 mins ahead and rang the bell for lunch.
As people left, she handed me the hotpot (a 500 grams kimbo container) “kotioo” that was saliva jetting through my throat. I opened it,and damn!!! The devil should have been crucified in place of Jesus, a three quarter used kimbo cooking fat. She tried to explain how she was in a hurry and took the cooking fat instead of the hotpot but anyway my day was ruined. I can imagine how her Mama went to cook lunch and found something else instead of cooking fat…anyway she knew about us.
I was summoned in the staff by the teacher on duty Mr. Matofali for ringing the bell before time, he removed his Siemens phone and ordered me to reset my watch. I did so and apologised,then Mr Suti moja (today he was waring a yellow Ng’ombe barbed wire t-shirt) our class teacher asked “mbona we we na Mary mnapata marks same,who is copying who?” The answer to that was not anywhere close. He later rearranged out sitting position,my new desky was cute too but her smell was not anywhere near cute…I now understand how mosquito repellants are made.
It had drizzled a bit that afternoon,this meant I had to reach home earlier for the game. We played football (made of paper bags) at grazing field a distance from home,I was the Francis Onyiso if not Mathew Otomax (goalers of our time). I was ready to roll, my left leg’s red slipper was the left goal post,as the right’s blue one the right goal post. In spite of a few injuries and kushikana tai,the game was good. I limped home for the hills on the west head swallowed the sun. “Wapi slippers” mom asked in a hell’s romantic tone, damn sikung’oa goal. Lucky me, I only got a scolding,After supper, I washed my long legs and walked with my toes to bed…wait!! Nimesahau kukojoa nje…It was totally not a good day.